12 Times
by DrKCooper
Summary: Flashbacks to the 12 times Jane has met with her therapist since Hoyt. Inspired by Jane's meeting with him in "Murderjuana" (6x14) about Maura's kidnapping and the continued threat of Alice Sands. Multi-chapter piece. Rating may change.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: All recognizable_ Rizzoli & Isles _characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to Janet Tamaro, TNT or Tess Gerritsen. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended._

 _Author's Note: In "Murderjuana" (6x14), yeah not the scene you're thinking, Jane meets with a psychiatrist and he notes that she has seen him 12 times in 5 years. This piece is going to be flashbacks of those 12 sessions. Well, 11 sessions, prior to her seeing him in the episode post-Maura's abduction and the ongoing stalker/arsonist/kidnapper storyline. I'll do a post-ep type chapter for that 12_ _th_ _session. I think those 12 sessions can tell us a lot about Jane and, inevitably, Jane's relationship with Maura. You'll have to forgive me for not going straight after the scene where Maura and Kent were high and she wanted a glazed donut. That one speaks for itself. Each session will likely be posted individually as a chapter. –dkc_

 **Twelve Times**

It was the policy of the Boston Police Department that officers who had sustained trauma see a psychiatrist. The sessions required depended on the incident. Sessions could be mandated for everything from an officer being attacked on the job to an officer involved shooting. In the case of the latter, often a single session was sufficient for returning an officer to the job.

However, this wasn't the case of a cop shooting anyone or that cop being shot. Detective Jane Rizzoli had been pinned to the floor of a dark cellar—no, pinned wasn't quite the way to describe it, she had been staked—with scalpels. She was in the sights of a murderous sociopath and he was her prey. In those excruciating moments as stainless steel surgical blades sliced through skin, tissue and tendon, she didn't have the luxury of thinking only of the pain. She was forced to consider what might come next.

Jane sat fidgeting in the warmly decorated office, noting that there was neither a couch as she imagined all psychiatrist's offices having nor a sterile smell, as he asked her what had become the routine question: How do you feel? Detective Rizzoli was merely going through the motions. All she wanted was to return to work. How would talking about how she was feeling accomplish that?

Her hands remained tender. The scars still purple.

"Detective, this would go a lot quicker if you would allow yourself to lean into your feelings," the therapist reminded her.

He was a nice enough guy and she felt guilty for not cooperating. While he may have been someone she could grow to trust, she had no interest in having enough sessions with him to find out. It was a waste of her time.

There was not a soul she had spoken openly to about what had happened in that cellar with Charles Hoyt. Not to a therapist and not to those closest to her. She was ashamed of the decisions she made that ended with her on her back, a scalpel in each hand as Hoyt loomed over her. Not even Korsak, her friend and partner who had arrived in time to save her, would ever know what happened that day.

"Jane?" she was aware of and disturbed by how detached she was from the man in the small office with her.

"I don't believe you when you say it will help me to talk about it," her armor was in place. "What good does it do to rehash those moments? It won't change what happened."

"You don't have to believe me. But if you push these feelings down, you will never get a handle on the nightmares and you will never stop questioning your instincts on the job."

When the emergency room doctor spoke to the detective about PTSD, she had scoffed. She was nothing like the men and women victims with PTSD she dealt with on the job. But it didn't take long for her to understand reality. She woke up screaming at night. And that was when she did sleep. She had panic attacks in small spaces or rooms that were musty. Jane hadn't allowed anyone to touch her for weeks after the ordeal. Her biggest issue, her inability to trust her own instincts, her own fight or flight responses, couldn't be remedied until she was back on the job. The lieutenant hadn't let her leave a desk since she returned from her month-long medical leave.

"Look, if you aren't going to be honest and open about your feelings, this isn't going to work. And if it doesn't work, I don't sign that letter saying you can rejoin the department in the role you want to," he didn't pull any punches.

"I'm not lying," Jane spoke sharply.

"I didn't say you were. You are putting off accepting and dealing with all of your feelings, Detective. In doing so, you control what we can discuss. Maybe you mean to do this, maybe you don't. Regardless, it prevents you from doing the work that must be done for you to move on from an awful thing that happened to you and return to your life."

Jane gave his words careful consideration this time. He might be right and if he was, it was on her to correct it. She wanted to move on. She wanted that bastard Charles Hoyt behind her. She simply didn't think it possible.

This was going to be a lot of work.

 _To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

Twelve Times – Chapter Two

Jane Rizzoli forced her stubbornness aside and arrived at her second session.

"I hope you've had some time to think carefully about what is bothering you and how important it is for you to talk about it. Pushing the anger and fear down until all you can feel is a blunt edge will not resolve anything. That isn't healthy. Let's see if we can't get off on the right foot today. If you bullshit me, I will not see you again. You'll have to find another doctor to convince that you are ready to return to work."

Jane Rizzoli had never been called out for being, well, Jane. She had always been able to say the right things and deny her feelings. Even with her own family she could get away with basic lies. He was not about to let her this time.

"You were right," she hadn't settled into her chair before the words were out of her mouth. "I have always dealt with things on my own terms in my own time."

"It isn't unusual for someone with your strength and character to do so," as he spoke the words, she chuckled at this.

"I am not strong," she refused the word as if it was a tangible object being handed her.

"You don't think you're strong?" he seemed surprised.

"Physically? Sure."

What Jane didn't say was very much implied—emotional strength was not her strong suit. The thought of how broken she felt emotionally began the now automatic response of rubbing the centers of her palms.

"You've survived what most of us can't even begin to imagine. The fact that you are able to leave your house is remarkable," he seemed serious and she found the remark uncomfortable. She had never been able to sit with compliments.

"Doc, I'm not sleeping. I can barely do a desk job right now. The only person I have been able to talk to is a colleague who has no people skills and hardly knew me before the incident. The nightmares are..." Jane didn't know how to finish the sentence.

"Of the flashback variety?" he spoke calmly, casually.

"I guess you could say that. I mean sometimes the details have changed, but it's all, you know, there."

"There?" he asked. "Do you mean in the cellar?"

"Well I certainly don't mean on the moon!" she snapped and then tried to walk it back. "Yes, in the cellar."

The color on the office walls was a soft green with a hint of gold. For some reason in that moment, staring at the wall in an effort to calm her own heart rate and fear responses, she was reminded of the color she had seen that morning in the gentle, compassionate eyes of her colleague, the head medical examiner.

There was something quite soothing about that color.

" _I'm glad you met me for coffee," her colleague was genuine._

 _Jane smiled before dropping eye contact to examine a slight crack in the table. She had missed Maura as much as or more than she had missed her job. That was an admission she wasn't prepared to voice aloud. Her job had been her life, but this budding friendship had sustained her over the last month as she recovered from her encounter with Charles Hoyt and attempted to cope without the job to throw herself into._

" _Any interesting cases?" Jane asked after an extended silence._

" _Two suicides, an accidental death and an otherwise healthy young man who seems to have gone unconscious prior to crashing his car into barrier at a T-intersection."_

 _The way the M.E. spoke so casually about death was unique to her affect. She was never disrespectful to the dead, however detached it might seem._

" _Jane?" her voice was now sincere and concerned._

" _Hmm?" the detective paid close attention to the way the subtle lines around Maura's eyes furrowed as she spoke questioningly._

" _Today is your second session, is it not?" the doctor asked gently._

" _Yes."_

" _How is it going?"_

" _I…" Jane fiddled with the cardboard sleeve on her coffee cup. "I don't think I was very open the first time. Guess I'll gave to try again today."_

" _You have been through a lot, Jane." Maura reached across the small table and placed a hand over the scarred yet soft hand that she had offered comfort a few times before. "Be honest with yourself about that."_

She realized the doctor had continued by explaining how a person can control their dreams. He was talking about creating safe spaces and allowing oneself to fully wake from a nightmare to appreciate that they are in a safe place. He was explaining this to her and while it made logical sense, she couldn't imagine ever again waking from a nightmare and not wanting to pull her gun from beneath her pillow, much less being able to go back to sleep immediately.

While they made progress in that second session, both could feel the ground beneath them shifting. Jane was getting ready to pronounce herself healed. Therapy was not for Jane Rizzoli.

 _To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

Twelve Times – Chapter 3

"I had my brother move the piano out of my apartment," Jane mumbled.

"You've stopped playing?" he asked.

She held out her hands to him, her irritation obvious.

"Is it too painful? Or too much of a reminder of what has happened to your hands?" he didn't allow her irritation to top his line of questioning.

Shrugging her shoulders in the typical Rizzoli way, Jane didn't answer verbally. She thought about the last time she was asked if her hands were painful, a question she was surprised by a month out from the trauma done to them in that damp cellar.

" _Do they hurt?" Maura's calm voice broke the silence between them, Jane looked up from beer and realized she had been clenching and unclenching the hand that wasn't wrapped around the cool glass bottle._

" _It's going to rain," Jane responded._

" _Changes in barometric pressure can certainly cause discomfort in compromised joints," the doctor rattled off._

 _The detective smiled._

" _Would you like me to massage them?" she offered without a hint of awkwardness._

 _Rizzoli was taken aback._

" _You want to rub my hands?" her eyebrow raised._

 _The doctor smiled before reaching out for the hand that had been clenched. She opened the hand, palm up, fingers slightly parted and gently pressed around the raised purple scars. It was immediately relaxing._

" _How do you do that?" Jane breathed._

" _While I've never had formal massage therapy training, I do know the anatomical structure of the hand and can locate each trigger point as well as the major landmarks necessary to give relief."_

 _Relief was a good word for it. So would have been comfort, Jane thought._

" _Thank you, Maura," Jane whispered, timidly admitting to the gratitude she had for the offer as well as for the friendship the doctor so readily gave._

"I imagine that the pain brings up the memory of the trauma done to them," his voice broke her from her thoughts of Maura.

"Yeah, I guess," Jane didn't elaborate.

"Are there other things you do with your hands that serve as a reminder of what was done to them?" he continued.

She seemed to be really considering his question.

"Boxing."

"Interesting," he said without elaborating, causing her to raise her eyebrow in curiosity. "Boxing would also give you the feeling of control; the belief that you could physically defend yourself."

She hadn't considered this nor had she been boxing consistently because the sharp, searing pain was too much to bear.

"I want you to tell me what happened in that cellar," he said.

This made her defensive and panicky. She hated to be reminded of the details of that day. Speaking about the encounter was simply something she didn't do.

"I need to assess your mental state and your progress since the incident. To do so, I need you to walk me through what happened that day."

Taking a deep breath, she spoke quietly as her mind disappeared into both the memory of Hoyt and the first time she told the story to someone that wasn't a cop.

" _I'd done the leg work. I had a hunch where he was and I didn't wait. I didn't wait for backup. I didn't tell Korsak where I was going. I had to prove myself. I had to show that I was as good a detective as any man in the department. I never considered that he could overpower me, that it was a trap set specifically for me."_

 _Jane hadn't looked up from her hands as she spoke. The blonde doctor was patient and didn't ask questions or push._

" _He used her to lure me in. I should have seen through it and I didn't."_

 _This time when Jane paused, she felt one soft finger after another settle on her hand. She didn't let people touch her hands—not her mother, not anyone. But as that gentle hand covered hers, she was okay with it. It felt right._

"He used the stun gun," she returned to the moment, back in the therapist's office. "It was sudden. He had me pinned before I got my faculties back. I struggled against him. I was afraid…I was afraid he might rape me. The way he looked at me, the way I felt the fear wash over me for the first time, made me afraid of what was to come. In some strange way him using the scalpels to stake me to that cellar floor was a relief."

She shook her head, the dark waves following.

"Did you ever feel as if you'd left your body? As if you had detached from what was happening?" he asked, a concerned look appearing in Jane's facial features.

"After the scalpels…" Jane couldn't say what they had done to her hands. "Once Korsak got there, I could no longer feel my hands. I should have been in immense pain. I don't remember feeling the fear or the worry about what had happened, you know? physically to my hands."

"When do you remember feeling your hands again?" he made a note on a small notepad that had been sitting on the corner of his desk, this worried her.

"It wasn't long. Maybe in the ambulance? Or when I got to the hospital. Once Korsak got there, he already had backup on the way and he radioed for the paramedics."

She was able to look up at him now and sat up straight, attempting to impress upon him and even her that she wasn't broken, that Hoyt hadn't done irreversible harm.

"But you remember it all, beyond the sensation in your hands?"

"Oh, yes. Korsak couldn't go in the ambulance with me. He apologized, watching me as they closed the doors and drove away. I really didn't need an ambulance. A uniform could have driven me," she continued to tell the story, sounding more confident with herself as she did. "

The notepad had gone back to the desk, the therapist focusing entirely on what Jane was saying now.

"They had a…" she hesitated, recalling Hoyt's nickname, "…surgeon ready when I arrived at the hospital. I went into surgery before my family arrived. They were all there when I came out. Korsak, too. Dr. Isles…Maura…came not long after."

"You haven't seemed detached or uncontrollably emotional as you've remembered the details. Is that consistent with how you feel?" his question required a moment of consideration.

"Yeah, I mean, you're not the first person I've told this to," the Rizzoli shrug was back. "It was part of the investigation. Korsak knew. And I told Maura recently."

"Was she the first person you told that wasn't part of the investigation?"

"Yes. I haven't told anyone else."

"You must trust Dr. Isles a great deal if she's the only one you've shared the details with," he uncrossed his legs and stood to reach for a folder on his desk.

"I trust her completely," there was no hesitation in her voice.

"I'm going to sign this release," he said as he leafed through to the appropriate page and began writing. "I believe that you are ready to return to work. That does not mean I think you should no longer receive therapy."

She furrowed her brow in confusion. Why had he decided to sign the form after she said she trusted Maura?

"Why did you decide to sign this when I told you I had shared the details with Dr. Isles?" she couldn't leave without asking.

"I decided before that, but your telling her tells me that you haven't lost your ability to trust and you have a good support system around you," he answered.

"Oh." Jane had no witty retort for that, she stood, took the release from him and walked toward the door.

"Don't hesitate to call if you need and like I said, continued therapy would be useful for you. You're not broken, Jane. Far from it."

"Thanks, doc," she didn't know what else to say to that. "You can send the bill to Charles Hoyt. Or, you know, the BPD."

Her sarcasm was intact. She definitely was not broken.

When Jane left the office that afternoon, she was pleasantly surprised to find one Maura Isles leaning against the brick building near the detective's car.

"How did it go?" the red tints of Maura's hair catching the sunshine, the gold flecks in her eyes sparkling.

"What are you doing here?" Jane smiled at the sight of the doctor.

"Korsak reminded me that you would be here. I wanted to be ready to celebrate if you got your release to get back to work."

"And if I didn't?" Jane smirked.

"Beer?" Maura did this adorable thing with her shoulders that always made Jane smile.

"So, a celebration either way?" she chuckled.

"You are quite right," her voice softened as Jane moved to her side, also leaning against the office building. "Do you have a signed release?"

"Sure do."

"That's fantastic! Do you think they'll let you come back to work right away?" Maura stood, putting a bit of space between she and Jane, a move that the detective noted with puzzlement when you felt a strange sense of loss. "I'm sure Homicide has missed you."

"I'd planned on heading there now," she, too, left the support of the wall and started around the front of her car. "How did you get here?"

"My car is around the block."

They stood at an impasse; separating felt as if it would be a loss, but neither of them knew why or how to respond to it. Jane saw a hint of disappointment in her friend's eyes. The doctor hadn't come all the way over here only to turn around to go back to BPD. Jane felt silly for not recognizing it immediately.

"Hey, why don't we go start that celebration? What's another day?" the detective said and was rewarded by a dazzling smile from Maura.

"I don't drink beer."

It was a statement, not even a particularly important one, but there's was something about it that was so perfectly Maura Isles. Jane couldn't help herself—an amused laugh resonated throughout her body.

As they pulled away from the curb, buckled in their seats in Jane's cruiser, it felt so right. Jane had never been more appreciative.

 _To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Thank you all for hanging with me in the slower beginning chapters. I don't believe Jane and Maura's friendship became what it is overnight and I hope each session reflects this. This chapter aligns with the pilot episode of the show. -dkc_

 **Twelve Times – Chapter 4**

She could still smell Hoyt's burning flesh. The fear of he and his apprentice killing her was only now beginning to dissipate.

"How many hours of sleep are you getting?" the shrink asked her as she looked to the ceiling to avoid tears.

Jane shrugged.

"I'll take that as not as much as you should," he didn't press.

It didn't take long for a professional to recognize how easily Jane Rizzoli could erect walls around herself. It would accomplish nothing to force her to express herself. Not right now. Like painting the plate with a fastball, he had to nibble around the corners rather than go straight to the heart of it.

"Have you confided in anyone?" he set aside the legal pad he hadn't been able to jot any notes on.

"Yeah, well, Maur—Dr. Isles," Jane replied.

"You said you stayed with her when Mr. Hoyt had escaped?" he somehow managed to make Hoyt seem common and not a monster by giving him a title.

"Yeah, I had to get away from my Ma, you know?" she answered.

"And did Dr. Isles provide you the solace you were seeking?" he was afraid she would lash out at this and wasn't surprised when she chuckled.

"It's not like I went running into her arms," she was suddenly defensive. "It's not like that, alright?"

"I wasn't suggesting that, Detective. Though I do wonder why you find the idea that your best friend might offer you that kind of support deplorable."

"I didn't say that."

What she wasn't comfortable telling the psychiatrist is that when she went to Maura's house that night, they'd slept together in the guestroom. They hadn't meant to, but once Maura had joined Jane on the bed, conversation flowed freely and she eventually relaxed enough to fall asleep. They'd woken the following morning, still atop the duvet.

"Have you spoken with Dr. Isles about what happened when Hoyt took you?" he was treading carefully, sensing the discomfort dredged up by speaking of the M.E.

"I...not really." She was disappointed in herself for doing exactly what she'd done when she encountered Hoyt the first time—shut out the people in her life.

It was long past time to talk to Maura.

…

She was finally starting to feel that there wasn't someone behind her, lurking, waiting to take her to god knows where. She knew Charles Hoyt was locked up, but she had known that before. Finding her own sense of safety was harder the second time she encountered that monster because now she knew it wasn't possible for him to get to her.

"Jane?" Maura's voice startled her.

When the detective's instincts had her assessing her surroundings, the M.E. knew why.

"I didn't meant to scare you," she offered. "I was going to ask if you'd like me to order some dinner. I think Indian sounds good."

"Yeah, sure," her mind was a million miles from Maura.

Friendship builds at a unique pace, unique to the two people who are beginning a journey with one another. These two women had worked many hard cases together. When Hoyt had reappeared, the friendship had grown as well as been proven. Maura was glad Jane could turn to her, trust her in the midst of debilitating fear. The night Jane stayed, knowing that Hoyt was out there somewhere, marked a turning point in what had until then been an undefined friendship.

"How was the session?" Maura asked gently.

The question was enough to capture Jane's complete attention. She didn't remember telling Maura she was going to her mandatory psychiatric session.

"How did you know?" she responded.

Maura tilted her head and considered her words carefully.

"I came by your desk this afternoon to see you. Detective Korsak was tight-lipped about where you were," Maura spoke the next bit with seriousness and compassion. "You've been distant this evening."

Running her hands through dark, unruly hair, Jane didn't say anything. She knew her mind was elsewhere. She knew that her session had pulled from her mind things she hadn't faced in years. She knew it was necessary for her BPD employment file, but she had come to understand therapy to be challenging and quite painful.

"I needed it, you know?" the cop finally spoke.

"It wouldn't be terrible if you were to see him, or someone, more regularly," Maura was careful in her suggestion. She knew Jane believed therapy to be a last resort, no matter how wrong that might be.

"I can't, Maur," she rasped. "I just can't."

Taking her cue with some trepidation, Maura came around the countertop and placed a hand on Jane's shoulder.

"Well, if you can't now, that doesn't mean you can't later on. And I'm always here if you need to talk."

Placing her own hand over Maura's, Jane smiled appreciatively.

"Thank you," she was near tears, tears that were making Maura anxious.

"Now, how about that takeout?" Maura smiled.

"Indian, really?" Jane faked disgust.

"Pizza is not intended for every meal, Jane."

Rolling her eyes, Jane stood up and went to the drawer where she kept the takeout menus. She handed them to Maura, their hands touching briefly. Looking up into dark eyes, Maura felt a warmth come over her. She wanted nothing more than for Jane to be okay.

 _To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: This takes place somewhere between the pilot, "See One. Do One .Teach One." and "I'm Your Boogie Man" (01x08). Thank you for your enthusiastic reviews. I don't want to lead you all on with the assumption that there will be smut eventually. I don't think that will be the case. -dkc_

 **Twelve Times – Chapter 5**

"Have you found any place where you've felt safe and comfortable?" he asked her.

She had called him on a whim. It had been a hard week. She wasn't sleeping. She wasn't eating. She had been living on coffee and the occasional donut that Korsak forced on her to get her to eat. It was after a sharp pang of guilt when she saw a split second of fear cross over Maura's face at an autopsy that week. The words didn't have to be spoken—the injuries appeared surgical, precise and for the two of them, that pointed to Charles Hoyt. It wasn't, but the fear still entered the doctor's mind.

Jane had remained silent.

While she didn't speak the memory aloud, she remembered it vividly. The last time she had felt safe and comfortable was with none other than her best friend.

 _The first time she hadn't felt completely on edge was that night in Maura's guestroom. Yes, Bass startled her. Yes, the knock on the door when Special Agent Dean dropped off files for the doctor had her heart racing with fear. But later that night she felt close to calm._

 _"Will you stay?" she felt small asking._

 _"Of course," Maura answered, neither turning to look at one another, their eyes fixed on the ceiling._

 _"Are you going to sleep in that?" Jane's voice told Maura of the grin on the detective's face._

 _"What would you like me to wear?"_

 _Not unlike Jane's tone earlier when she asked if getting into the bed next to her was Maura's way of telling her she was attracted to Jane, Maura's tone was light and flirtatious. This brought a subtle eyebrow rise from the dark haired woman who was now looking at her friend._

 _Maura chuckled before gracefully rolling away from Jane and departing the bed to go change. She would return to a dozing detective who only woke briefly when the doctor settled beside her._

 _"You look ready for a runway even in your pajamas."_

 _The mumbled words were all that came from Jane's mouth before falling into a deep sleep. Being next to Maura erased the fear of Charles Hoyt._

 _She'd woken in the early hours of the morning, turned on her side with her arm draped over the sleeping doctor's stomach. Maura's head was tilted to the side, her face nearly pressed against Jane's next._

"I feel calmest around the people I love, my friends, my colleagues," Jane finally spoke.

"That's a cop out and you know it. When was the last time you felt the most free of fear?" he pressed her.

She had this slight groan that was unique to only her, a signal that she was doing something against her will. Her stubbornness could not win out.

"The night I went to Maura's; the night Hoyt had escaped."

He nodded, not giving any indication of whether he was surprised or not.

"She's calm, really calm. And she understands that I don't always like to talk, especially about what is bothering me," the last comment came sharply, a pointed barb at her therapist, something he allowed.

"Have you considered going to her now? Does she know you are struggling?"

"Of course she knows. Everybody in the building knows."

"But have you talked to her personally? Does she know what it is that has you on edge? I suspect given her role in apprehending Hoyt, she knows and understands the baggage you carry from his arrest, escape and arrest again. Plus her training as a doctor will allow her to understand the symptoms of PTSD that you continue to live with and through."

He stood from his chair to rummage through the papers on his desk. He located what it was he wanted and sat back down, leaning forward to hand the item to Jane.

"Cops and PTSD?" she was quite skeptical.

"I think it would be helpful in getting you to understand that officers suffer from PTSD at a higher rate than anyone likes to admit. You aren't an anomaly, Jane. Far from it, actually."

"Cops don't get staked to the ground, doc," her anger surfaced.

"I'm not saying the specifics of your trauma are like anybody else's. What I'm saying is maybe if you cut yourself some slack, allow yourself to admit what happened to you and how pivotal it has been in your life, you'll not feel the immense guilt and shame you are experiencing now," as he said these things to her, tears pooled in her eyes, a single one falling down her right cheek.

Jane didn't say anything right away and he allowed that silence. They sat with it.

"What if I can't find that place? You know, that calm and safe, whatever," she was mumbling and looking at her feet.

"Are you afraid that you won't find it again or that you won't find it anywhere but with Maura?" he hit the nail on the head.

Putting her face in her hands, Jane took a few breaths and thought through the torrent of fear that accompanied the thought of not only how reliant she had become on Maura's presence, but also on her emotional support.

"Maura."

One word.

 _To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Things should start picking up now. I know it took awhile to really establish that there's something going on between these two women, but I think it's true to their friendship—nothing happened overnight. Let me know what you think. -dkc

 **Twelve Times – Chapter 6**

"I've been involved in these things before," Jane shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

"In shootings, you mean?" he asked.

When Jane didn't respond, he tilted his head and his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose. He could sense that she was annoyed with the fact that the department had insisted she touch base with the department psychiatrist.

"You've never shot yourself before."

She bristled at the description. While she knows and feels as if she were shot, she doesn't think of it as having shot herself. She took out the bad guy. She did what she had to do.

"What was it that made you decide? A trigger requires weight, I assume. Was there a moment of hesitation or did you pull the trigger knowing why you were doing it?" he was calm, curious.

"I had to," the cop corrected him quickly.

"Tell me why."

"I have. Frankie was bleeding," Jane snapped. "I had to get them out."

"Them?" the shrink raised an eyebrow. This was new. "You've only ever said Frankie's life was in immediate danger."

"We were all in danger," she closed her eyes tight, releasing the lids with the frustration.

"You said 'them' the first time. Which was it? 'We' or 'them'?" he wasn't letting her off the hook.

"What the hell difference does it make?" she was now defensive.

He gave her a moment to cool down. In their few sessions together over the past year and a half, he had come to understand both that Jane didn't speak openly about her feelings and she shut down entirely when challenged on it.

"Maura, okay?" Jane sighed. "I had to get her out of there."

This was the first time he had heard her refer to the medical examiner in relation to the shooting. Over the course of their recent sessions, he had surmised that they were growing closer. Dr. Isles had gone from being the chief M.E. to being a friend. Now there seemed to be a genuine concern that came only from true attachment. He wanted to help her understand what was happening, but he didn't yet understand it himself.

"She could only keep Frankie alive for so long without the proper tools. And I couldn't continue to keep her out of the line of fire," she was now massaging the scars on the backs of her hands.

"Did she enter your mind when you pulled the trigger or were you only focused on..." he paused to flip back through his notes for a name. "Marino?"

"Before and after."

Once again she hadn't elaborated and he was left to piece it together.

"After?" he asked.

"I saw her," she nodded as if to make him follow. "I'd fallen to the ground and she came to me."

He remembered now that it was the doctor who tried desperately to keep the bleeding at bay before the paramedics could arrive. He must have read that in the newspaper. Or was it in the police report the department sent with Jane's medical release?

"When it was over were you relieved that she and Frankie were okay?" he questioned.

"I thought I was, but now I'm not so sure."

They'd finally made it to the issue of Jane's recurring nightmares. While it wasn't the department's policy to address sleep disturbances after an incident on the job, he had come to know Jane well enough at this point to suspect she wasn't sleeping due to nightmares.

"Does something happen to Frankie? Dr. Isles?" he hoped she would walk him through the details.

"Frankie is fine. Once I pull the trigger, SWAT can get to him." Detective Rizzoli took a deep breath and corrected her posture. She was done elaborating. He knew it.

"Would you like something to help you sleep?" he suggested. "I could give you a few tablets to get you through until our next session."

Standing up, she was drained physically, mentally and emotionally. She did not want to have another session any more than she wanted another pill to put in her body.

"Nah, I've got painkillers," she shrugged.

"You know that they do not mix with alcohol?" his voice came out sounding alarmist.

"Don't worry, Doc," she smiled. "Haven't had a beer since the shooting."

"Why don't you tell me what it is that bothers you the most about the shooting?" he remained serious despite her comment.

Jane paused, the smile disappearing from her face. She retreated inside her mind.

 _She saw me like that. She saw me shoot myself_ , Jane thought.

He remained silent and allowed her to work it through in her mind. He noticed a tear fall from her eye.

"Maura saw me like that," Jane spoke what she had been thinking. She had learned that it was less of a battle to get through these sessions if she was both honest and open with what was bothering her.

"As did your partner, your former partner and most of the officers of your precinct," he was considering what she shared as he tried to formulate an appropriate question. "Why does it not bother you that they saw the shooting?"

"They're cops," she shrugged.

For every moment of openness, Jane had a moment of stubbornness and skepticism. She could be sarcastic, that sarcasm often biting. She also had moments of raw anger.

"And Dr. Isles is a medical examiner that often sees bodies with bullet wounds," he countered with his own obstinacy.

"She's my best friend," Jane sighed. "I heard her screaming my name."

There it was, the root of Jane's sleepless nights.

"Ah, you heard her fear. Is it possible that you feel guilt for how your action affected her?" he asked.

"Of course I feel guilty!" the fiery Italian came out.

Knowing his client fairly well, he didn't push back then. He gave her a moment to take a few breaths, to collect her thoughts and reign in her temper.

"Have you told Maura this?" his voice was nothing but calm.

"No," she ran her hands through her mess of hair. "What do I say? 'Hey, I feel bad and am sorry I shot myself to take out a dangerous lunatic right in front of you.' That's going to sound so genuine."

"You can't beat yourself up for an impossible situation. You did your job. What you say to Dr. Isles will be genuine, I'm certain of that. Would you like to discuss how it might go is she isn't accepting of your apology?" he uncrossed his legs and took a sip from his coffee cup without breaking eye contact.

Jane breathily chuckled at the thought of Maura responding with anything but graciousness and understanding. She loved that about her friend.

"She isn't going to shut me out. That would have happened already."

"Then why are you afraid to talk to her?" he noticed her wince at the implication that she was scared of something.

"Look, it isn't that. I'm not afraid of talking to her or apologizing to her. She's going to forgive me. Hell, she probably already has."

"I guess I don't understand then," he was at a loss.

"She saw the shooting," the detective fidgeted as she got up the courage to say the words. "She was there, holding me, watching me bleed out."

"Jane, it sounds to me like what is bothering you isn't what the doctor saw or what she did in the space following the shooting and the ride to the hospital. It sounds to me like there's something else. What am I missing?" he had cornered her.

Cracking her knuckles and biting her lip, tears began to cloud her vision.

"I could have lost her."

While it was more appropriate to say that Maura could have lost Jane, from the perspective of the woman sitting with her hands clenched and tears beginning to fall down her cheeks, it was she who could have lost Maura.

The thought was more than she could bear.

 _To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: I failed to mention at the top of chapter 6 that the shooting is, obviously, from the season 1 finale. This continues along that path in the aftermath of Jane shooting herself. –dkc_

 **Twelve Times – Chapter 7**

Despite repetitive ab work, Jane still felt weak in her core after the surgeries done to repair her gunshot wound. She found herself gripping her side occasionally when a stabbing sensation overpowered her. This was one of those times.

Holding tight to her kitchen counter, she attempted deep breaths. The last thing she needed was to hold her breath and cause the muscles to further tighten.

"Dammit!" she cursed, frustrated by the very fact that it had been weeks and she still was dealing with this.

Once her knuckles had gone white from the grip, she found herself sliding down the cabinet onto the floor.

She knew the pain would subside. There was nothing to worry about.

 _Come on!_ she fumed internally.

Crumpled on the floor, hand pressed to her side, she attempted to disengage from the pain. Her mind sought distraction. She mentally took stock of her day. When it had started, what she had done after breakfast, the perfectly mundane things.

Her afternoon had been the hardest. She had her mandatory session with the man she was trying to not think of as being her therapist. If she thought of him as hers, that might imply that this was an ongoing arrangement. It was not. In fact, she had hoped to see a different shrink when she found out she would be required to see someone after the assault on the precinct and the shooting. Someone up the chain of command had a different idea.

It was supposed to be one session. Most officer-involved shootings required only that. However, this wasn't the average officer involved shooting. This time the officer was both the shooter and the victim.

It was supposed to be one session. And maybe it would have been had she not come completely apart once she revealed how worried she was about not only her brother, but also her best friend.

During the first session she relived the moment after she pulled the trigger. She could hear the doctor screaming her name. She had felt Maura pressing into the wound in the way you feel dental work—pressure around the edges, but numbness where it mattered. She had been plunging rapidly into shock. Going through it during the session brought back that numbness.

By the time the session was over she felt as if she'd been shot all over again.

On the floor, taking careful breaths, she considered how much easier the second session had been. She was starting to understand why having the same psychiatrist mattered. They were able to address Hoyt without saying his name, all while working through the shooting. Trauma was trauma.

Banging her head back against the cabinet, she'd grown impatient with the pain. Thinking about the session had not distracted her from the stabbing in her side.

She did the only other thing she knew would help. She dialed the phone.

"Hey, Maura," she tried not to sound distressed.

"Jane," the voice on the other end of the line was concerned regardless of how hard the detective had tried to hide the pain. "Are you okay? What can I do?"

"Just talk to me," she sighed. "It'll pass."

"Detective Korsak said your psych clearance was delivered. When do you see the surgeon again for your medical release?"

Taking a deep breath and relaxing her body, Jane smiled at how easily Maura took control of the conversation.

"I go back on Monday. I'll get his signature then."

There was a slight pause and Jane knew it was due to Maura weighing whether or not to challenge Jane. She smiled at that knowledge.

"Do you ever think about that day?" Jane bravely asked what she really wanted to, leaving no gap for Maura to continue leading the conversation.

"Of course I do. We walk back into that place every day, Jane. It wouldn't be healthy to not be reminded."

"I don't mean, well, I don't know what I mean," her voice was betraying the onslaught of emotions.

"No, tell me. I want to understand."

"Frankie needed a hospital. A surgeon. It was unfair of me to put that pressure on you."

"Is that what you think about? You don't need to."

"You, um, screamed my name," the detective rasped. "You must have come from the front of the building. I didn't see you until you were right there with me. But I heard you scream my name. I hear you scream my name."

The doctor's own emotions bubbled up in her throat. The memory was crushing.

"Hear me scream?" as she said the words it registered in her busy mind that Jane was talking about her nightmares. "I saw you pull the trigger. There was so much blood."

Until now Jane hadn't known that Maura had seen it happen. Korsak and Frost hadn't told her, but then again, why would they? She now felt awful about what her friend had seen.

"I see you bleeding out on that sidewalk when I close my eyes," Maura's voice reflected her pain.

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry, Maura," tears streamed down her cheeks, her voice catching. "I didn't know. You were right there; you were all I saw. You had blood all over your hands, your clothes. I thought you'd been hurt. I thought he'd done something to you."

"It is better than it was," she assured her friend. "It doesn't scare me the way it once did. It's not crippling. But Jane? That day didn't happen to you alone. It happened to me, too."

Soft cries could be heard on the line.

"It won't always be this hard."

Jane's voice caught, a small sob escaping. It was killing Maura to hear the breakdown from across town.

"Let me come to you," she pleaded.

Her body shaking, Jane fought the emotions at every turn. She couldn't have Maura see her like this. She wouldn't.

"I'll be okay," she tried.

"But you don't have to be. We can talk about this. I had no idea that you thought he had hurt me."

There was silence on Jane's end of the line.

"I'm coming over, Jane, hold on."

…

She didn't know when it had happened. In fact, she didn't know it had happened at all until she had been sitting in that calm, therapeutic doctor's office talking about the shooting and how scared she was.

She cared about Maura Isles. Of course she did. This was something else. She had feared for Maura's life more than she would have any other colleague, however terrible that sounded. She had feared for Maura's life as much as Frankie's. But that wasn't it, either. She had feared for Maura's life because she cared about her in a way that was neither collegial nor familial. She was developing feelings for the doctor. Romantic feelings.

Oh, God, she thought. This can't be why I was so afraid. I can't feel this way about Maura.

Jane Rizzoli might not have felt comfortable discussing sex or relationships, but that didn't mean she was not versed in both. She knew what it felt like to fall for someone that could never know and certainly never feel the same way. It had happened in high school. Her best friend in that case, too. She never told a soul and once Stacy Bentovolio became a cheerleader and started dating a jock, their friendship fizzled. Jane didn't talk about that any more than she talked about Joey Grant. It wasn't how Jane operated. To tell Maura about these newly surfaced feelings would be inappropriate and potentially devastating.

Instead, Jane buried them.

One Casey Jones would re-enter her life and Jane would distract herself from the truth, burying her developing feelings deeper and deeper.

Maura was none the wiser.

 _To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: The updates might be a little slower from here through the 12th session. I don't what came over me with the 4 chapters you got all at once! ;) –dkc

 **Twelve Times – Chapter 8**

She artfully dodged the leading questions about Maura's father. Was Maura really in danger from her biological father who happened to be a notorious crime boss? It sure had felt like it both the time he had snatched Maura from the bay of the morgue and when he had turned up at her house demanding medical care.

He knew she wasn't telling him everything. He was the professional after all.

How any of this had anything to do with what had happened at the prison, he couldn't quite grasp and Jane wasn't willing to say. Not yet. Hoyt was dead. It wasn't even mandatory that she visit the head doc for what was easily ruled self-defense.

She was here because it was Hoyt. She was here because the nightmares were back. She knew he was dead; she had killed him with her own hands, yet her sleeping mind presented him as a threat.

Honestly, she was here because Maura encouraged it.

When he asked her about her repetitive dream, she was defensive. Of course it didn't mean anything that it was Maura in trouble in the scenario and not herself.

She had given him the details of the nightmare. It wasn't all that surprising that it involved Hoyt and the prison infirmary where Jane's final battle with her own personal boogieman happened.

"Would you have killed him if it had just been you?" his question caught her off guard. She immediately lost control of her delicate balance of emotions.

"What?" she snapped. "I'm not suicidal!"

"I didn't say you were," he remained measured. "I am trying to ascertain what importance Dr. Isles' presence had on your decision making."

Jane took a moment to let this sink in.

"If you're asking if I would kill for her, I obviously did."

There was a resignation in the detective's voice. She wasn't regretful that Hoyt was gone, not at all. She knew she should feel some degree of guilt for taking a life, but she didn't. What she was concluding about herself is the depth for which she cared for Maura. There was no limit.

Her mind traveled back to a moment in Maura's living room that she couldn't seem to shake.

 _Jane had been on lying on the floor flipping through the newspaper when she happened to look back at Maura. What she saw made her jaw drop._

 _The doctor, comfortable in her own home and positive Jane's attention was elsewhere, had unbuttoned her shirt and was adjusting the camisole underneath. All of which would have been unremarkable, of course, had she not pulled it down to the space where the two cups of her bra came together, adjusted the straps and was in the process of covering herself when she heard a slight noise that caught her attention._

 _"Whoa." Jane spoke breathlessly and without intention of doing so aloud. It was barely audible._

 _When the transfixed woman glanced up she realized that Maura's eyes were on her._

 _"Sorry," she mumbled, her cheeks immediately red with embarrassment and a touch of something else. She went back to the sports page if for no other reason to avoid Maura's hazel eyes._

 _"I don't mind if you look Jane," the doctor said with calm confidence._

 _It wasn't 'I don't mind if you see, Jane,' it was 'I don't mind if you_ look _.' Jane knew the connotation. It meant that Maura didn't mind if Jane gazed—gawked, stared, gaped at her breasts. What did this mean about their friendship? What was Maura saying?_

Jane could not grasp how Hoyt's death, the arrival of Paddy Doyle, that interaction in Maura's living room and her seemingly failed relationship with Casey Jones had anything to do with one another.

"Why did you come see me?" his question pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Because I can't sleep and when I do, I see that bastard. It wasn't enough he tortured me in life, he's got to do it in death, too?"

"Is that all it is? The sleep?" he stood from his chair and moved to the bookshelf where he located a particular book, taking it out and handing it to Jane.

She raised an eyebrow when she saw the cover.

"Patient heal thyself?" she joked.

"Give it a chance. You may find it helpful in understanding nightmares as a symptom of trauma."

Sitting back down, he checked his watch. She had learned to read this as a warning that their time was fast approaching an end.

"You're not going to give me a sleeping pill and send me on my way?" she asked with confusion.

"I'm going to send you with that book and one observation: You can't hide forever from the things that surface in your sleep any more than you can hide from the things in your life that don't quite fit. Now, if you continue to be plagued by the dreams to the point that sleep deprivation is making it impossible to function, call me. I'll write you a prescription. Until then, I want you to slow down and figure out what it is that scared you the most in that prison."

Jane nodded her understanding, however frustrated she was by the suggestion that she truly assess herself and what was going on.

"Oh, and Jane?" he stopped her as she stood and turned for the door, the book in hand. "I'm not the only one you should talk to about this."

He left it at that, however vague, and the detective knew exactly who he was referring to.

She had to talk to Maura.

 _To be continued…_


	9. Chapter 9

**Twelve Times – Chapter 9**

"Why didn't you call before now?" he asked her as she settled into the chair across from him. "I was under the impression you had an officer involved that required we touch base."

"If only it were that simple," Jane sighed.

"There was a shooting or there wasn't?" he pressed.

"Yes," and then there was an IA investigation. There was a whole lot of sh—" she stopped herself from cursing. "A lot had to be resolved."

"What was the outcome of the IA investigation?"

"I was cleared," she squared her shoulders, the Jane Rizzoli swagger on display.

"I understand you apprehended a crime boss," he was ready to offer her congratulations when her expression darkened and the bravado dropped. "What don't I know? The crime boss wasn't—"

"Yes. Maura's father—biological father—and I shot him."

"I see." He was silent. His hesitation caused Jane to feel defensive, protective of her best friend.

"But I'm a cop, you know? I did what I had to do."

"You seem conflicted about that," he wasn't getting a rise out of her per se, but he was feeling the friction growing between them.

"I fucked it all up," she was near tears.

"The shooting? Or—?" he let her lead the way.

"She's my best friend. I almost lost her. How does a person forgive that?" Jane's eyes were losing the battle of holding in the tears; she hadn't ever been this emotional in this office.

"I suppose it depends on the person."

Jane realized that she was talking about herself as much as she was talking about Maura. How did she forgive herself for the pain she had caused Maura?

"I will repeat my previous question: Why didn't you call sooner?" he didn't allow her to get too lost in her own head, by now he knew how detrimental Jane could be to her own progress.

"We had a case. The IA investigation ended. Maura returned to work. We, uh, it was bad. There was a crash. Her leg was pinned. I had to slice it open because of—" she paused to try to think of the word.

"Compartment syndrome."

"Yeah, that's it," she ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "Like I said, it was bad."

"What has happened since?" his question brought back the memory of sitting on Maura's couch with her and them being forced to apologize to one another by her fed up mother.

She smiled at the thought of hugging Maura following that much needed and long overdue mutual apology.

"We're okay."

They were okay or they were getting there.

"Nightmares?" he followed up with a question that seemed off topic, but actually was far from it.

"Of course," she rolled her eyes. "Mostly, you know, out there in that car. The water was rushing in and Maura was trapped. I couldn't leave her. I didn't leave her."

"Have you found anything that has helped?" he took a prescription pad off the corner of his desk. "Would you like something to help with the sleep?"

She shook her head. She hated relying on pills to sleep.

"Before all of this happened, did you have a chance to speak to Maura like we discussed when I saw you last?"

This took Jane back to the moment she was preparing Maura to go undercover in the warehouse.

 _As she attached the mic to the doctor, she couldn't help herself, her eyes traveling down from the hollow of Maura's neck to her tantalizing cleavage. She knew she was being watched and she didn't care._

 _Flipping off her own mic so that Korsak and Frost couldn't hear their conversation, she took a quivering breath._

" _Maura…" her voice was deep, raspy._

 _They had flirted as she told Maura how to handle herself undercover. This was different. This was flirting with fire._

 _Jane allowed her hand to travel where her eyes had. From the hollow of Maura's neck down between alluring breasts, her hand rested above the M.E.'s navel. She heard as well as felt the catch of breath._

" _Something is happening between us," Jane couldn't quite voice what it was or how they proceeded._

" _Yes."_

 _That one word was everything. She now had proof that what she was feeling was reciprocated._

 _She heard Korsak's voice giving her the ETA on the man they were expecting. Had it not, she would have found the courage to lean in, hoping Maura would meet her halfway._

 _They returned to flirting, securing the mic and going over how the doctor was to conduct herself. They would have to return to this conversation later._

"Not exactly," Jane muttered.

"Is it too soon after the shooting and what sounds like a traumatic case?" he asked.

"Maybe."

Her disposition told him everything he needed to know. She wasn't ready to forgive herself whether or not Maura was able to and had forgiven her.

"Don't give up on it, detective. In my experience, feelings rarely go away if ignored," he looked toward the prescription pad again. "Are you sure you don't need something for sleep?"

"No, I'll get past it. Thanks."

Jane stood and moved toward the door. Her hand on the doorknob, she looked back at him.

"The department doesn't need a psych release," she said. "IA cleared me."

Nodding his understanding, it was a quiet acknowledgement by both of them that Jane had come to him on her own volition.

He was beginning to have confidence that Detective Rizzoli would reach out to him even if the Boston Police Department didn't require it. She was learning.

However, he couldn't have imagined the despair she would come to him in the next two times they would meet.

 _To be continued…_


	10. Chapter 10

**Twelve Times – Chapter 10**

"I'm a bit unclear about why we are here, Detective," he watched her closely.

Jane had been sitting next to him on the park bench for nearly ten minutes. She had said very little and what did come was more casual conversation than confiding in this man that she had seen in her darkest times.

"My partner was killed," she finally said.

Confused, he thought back over the week and couldn't remember receiving a notice of a mandatory session, something that would have been required for a fallen officer's partner. He could rule out a death in the line of duty. In the past it had been the department notice that had brought Jane to him, but that was no longer even a given.

"It was a car accident," she seemed to know what his next question was.

"I'm sorry to hear it," he truly was. "Detective Frost seemed to be a good man and a good cop."

"He was, he really was."

He knew Jane Rizzoli to be someone who did everything in her power to keep her feelings from breaking the surface. But as they spoke of Frost she was visibly broken up.

"You know that you can call anytime," he wanted to make himself clear on this point.

"You don't need a mandatory psych visit to reach out."

She nodded stubbornly. They'd been over this many times.

"I'm glad you made the decision to call."

"I didn't," she seemed ashamed. "My... Maura did."

While she had spoken to him at length about Maura over the years, she progressed from calling her an acquaintance to a co-worker to a friend. She found herself hesitating to name what Maura was to her now. More and more this was an issue for Jane.

"I don't understand," he waited.

"She said she'd go to my lieutenant if I didn't talk to somebody," she admitted.

"Would she have?" his answer came by way of a shoulder shrug.

"I haven't been sleeping," she avoided eye contact. "I've been distracted. I've been missing things in investigations."

"Are you considering harming yourself or others?" he asked.

"No, it's nothing like that. Maura is just worried that if I were in a tight spot that I might not respond accordingly. Something about my reaction time being dulled by sleep deprivation."

He nodded, seemingly considering the possible scenarios the detective might find herself in.

"Did something specific happen that scared the M.E.?" he found it interesting that it was the doctor and not Jane that was worried, worried enough to threaten the detective with involving her commanding officer.

"No," she sighed. "Well, yeah, I guess."

A young couple walked past the bench, holding hands and smiling at the serious faces that looked up from their conversation to watch them.

"I kind of lost it after the funeral."

"You'll have to define 'lost it' for me," he handed her a handkerchief he had in his suit jacket.

"I made it through the funeral. I think I held up well given that I had to give the eulogy and listen to all those cops offer their sympathies."

"What happened after?"

Her mind was transported to the moment at her kitchen counter when she saw the postcard her partner had sent her while he was on vacation. She slid to the ground and cried. Everything about that moment felt as if it were constricting her airway.

"The day after the funeral, I was out on a call. A body had been found in an alley down off Boylston. Korsak and I pulled up to the scene and a uniform was yelling to us about a runner. I jumped out of the car in pursuit. Ran up a fire escape and onto the roof of a townhouse."

She shook her head as she began the relevant part of her story.

"Cornered the guy. When he made his move, I tackled him," she wasn't proud of what happened next. "I started hitting him, really throwing punches. By the time Korsak caught up to us I'd beat the guy bloody. Vince restrained me. I was pissed at him for it."

"What happened to the suspect?" he nodded his head to urge her on.

"They took him to the hospital. He's fine. Turned out he had weed on him and didn't want arrested for possession. Had nothing to do with the DOA."

"What was going through your mind?" his question drove her thoughts to the night Maura had asked that very question.

 _"What was going through your mind?" the doctor asked over her wine glass._

 _They were sitting outside in the small courtyard at Maura's house, a large umbrella overhead despite the clear sky and the approach of dusk. Jane had finally told Maura what had happened at work that day. The M.E. knew something was up earlier in the day when she visited Homicide and saw Jane sitting in Lt. Cavanaugh's office with the door closed. She had also heard through the buildings' overactive grapevine that her friend had beat up a suspect._

 _"I wish I knew," Jane sighed. "It happened so fast and I felt out of control."_

 _"Your anger came from somewhere," Maura was watching Jane's every facial movement with concern._

 _"You sound like a therapist," she groaned._

 _"Have you considered seeing him?" Maura didn't have to say the psychiatrist's name for Jane to know what she was asking._

 _"No, I mean, what good would it do? I lost my partner, I didn't shoot anyone."_

 _Her friend wouldn't usually allow the detective's flippant attitude, but it was obvious how much Jane was struggling so Maura let it slide._

 _"Would you talk to me about your anger?" perhaps the offer would be enough._

 _Tears came to Jane's eyes and it was obvious they were an annoyance. She hid behind her beer bottle until the tears had become too much to hold in. It was time to let it all go._

 _"God, Maur," Jane set down her beer and put her head in her hands. "What kind of God would take Frost? He was so young, so kind. I have never met a nicer human being."_

 _The emotion in her voice was extremely hard for Maura to hear. She hated to see Jane in pain. The tears flowed freely._

 _Reaching out a hand to place on Jane's knee, the doctor considered her words carefully as she moved her chair closer until their knees touched._

 _"You know I don't believe in God, but I do believe in the power of the universe to influence our lives both good and bad. You can't blame God for what happened to Frost. Automobile accidents statistically—"_

 _Jane cut her off with a hand reaching over to press against her lips._

 _"No probabilities and statistics, please. I just can't."_

 _The look on the detective's face spoke to how serious she was. Never believe had Dr. Isles silenced her facts as quickly._

 _"I don't think your anger at God is well placed. Anger isn't abnormal after a death. You have to find the right outlet for it, Jane. I wouldn't suggest a suspect's face as that outlet again."_

 _This made Jane chuckle through her tears. Maura stood and retreated into the house. Jane was only momentarily confused as Maura came back through the door with a box of tissues._

 _"Thanks," Jane sniffled as she took a tissue._

 _"Now would be an appropriate time to return to boxing. Running could be useful. Really, the most useful thing you can do is talking," Maura returned to her chair and continued sitting knees-to-knees with Jane._

 _"We're talking, aren't we?" the cop said sarcastically._

 _Maura took Jane's hand in her own and looked into glistening brown eyes._

 _"I know it's painful, losing Frost. I feel it deeply. All I ask is that you talk to me before another day like today happens," the M.E. spoke in a soothing tone._

 _"Why are you so wonderful?" Jane asked sincerely._

 _All the doctor could do was smile._

 _"I simply want you to be okay," she responded, placing her hand over their entwined hands. "If that means talking through it, I'm here."_

 _"You're always here," Jane said._

 _"You do the same for me."_

 _They had both leaned in, Jane unconsciously parting her legs to allow Maura's knees a space, and Maura was now rubbing her thumb back and forth over a raised scar._

 _"Maur...?" the detective's voice was as raw as her emotional state._

 _The doctor's hand slid up Jane's elbow, remaining there as a gentle nudge to the woman before her who appeared ready to jump._

 _And jump she did._

 _The tinted lips of Maura Isles welcomed the firm determination of her best friend and soulmates. The kiss was not unexpectedly emotional. Tears streamed down Jane's cheeks, meeting their joined mouths and adding a hint of saltiness. Maura's grip on Jane's elbow offered encouragement and reassurance to the woman who was slowly falling apart._

 _The kiss was broken by a strangled sob. Jane's head dropped to the doctor's shoulder._

 _"It's okay, honey. It won't always hurt this much."_

 _Jane continued to cry._

"Nothing was going through my mind."

What Jane said might have been true when she wailed on the suspect, but it wasn't true of where her mind had just been.

"I know you don't mean that or believe it, but I understand how hard it is to talk about what possessed you in that moment," he said. "Will there be ramifications?"

"No," she was reminded of the look on Cavanaugh's face when he told her what the outcome would be. "Suspension, unpaid. He, the perp, agreed to drop the assault charge in exchange for us looking the other way on the marijuana possession."

"Are you okay with that?" his question was unquestionably loaded.

"I cost my team an arrest. Not to mention taking their attention off the real reason we were there."

"Do you think it could happen again?" he had to ask. He had a professional obligation to assess threats.

"Not now, no," she couldn't stop her mind from thinking of the kiss she had shared with Maura and its healing properties. "I get why it happened."

He was skeptical. He was also well versed in Detective Jane Rizzoli and knew better than to drag her somewhere she didn't want to go. She would grieve her partner's death in her own way, in her own time. He also saw something had changed in her.

Had Jane Rizzoli changed?

 _To be continued…_


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: I've not been good at noting what episodes these align with and I apologize. The last chapter aligned with Frost's death and funeral at the beginning of season 5. This chapter coincides with what I think was "Too Good to Be True" (05x03), "Lost & Found" (05x08), "It Takes a Village" (05x09) and "Phoenix Rising" (05x10). Additionally, it was brought to my attention that there was a bit of an issue in the last chapter regarding location of Jane's meeting with the shrink. I've corrected that. -dkc

 **Twelve Times – Chapter 11**

"I'm reckless and I hate myself for it," she confessed.

"Hate is a strong word," came his reply.

"Yeah, well, I think now is as good a time as any to start using it."

The anger was emanating off Jane. She wasn't being sarcastic when she said she hated herself.

"I was pregnant."

For perhaps the first time since he had first met the detective, he was silenced in surprise.

"I lost it. The case you read about, the homeless girl? I got beat up and despite my protective vest, my body, well, you understand."

Jane sat in his office this time. She had been mandated this time. BPD had required she see psych, at this point she couldn't imagine seeing anyone but him, and receive a medical release before even returning to a desk job. They had been very firm on both. Korsak wasn't budging.

"Does he know?" his question was that of a therapist who knew better than to ask if it could have been anyone other than Casey's baby. Jane didn't date. Even her recent breakup with the colonel was amicable and drama-free. She never appeared to be in love with him. She never spoke of him. Not like she spoke of a certain medical examiner.

Jane sighed, a heavy exhale that might have released a tension she had been carrying for too long, but it didn't. She was wound tight.

"I told him, yes. Not long before I had to tell him..." she really struggled to find words for the loss of the baby.

"And Dr. Isles?" he asked the question without an idea of what exactly he wanted to know.

Jane dropped her head, a look of disappointment and a posture of defeat overtaking her.

"I don't know. She knew; she knows."

The detective's voice was filled with emotion, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I wanted it for us, you know?" she mumbled.

No, he didn't know. Over the years he had sporadically seen Jane, he had never been able to pin down what exactly the relationship was between the detective and the doctor. At times it appeared to be the strongest friendship between two people he had ever encountered either professionally or personally. At other times it seemed as if they might be in a romantic relationship that was, by all evidence, very much on the down low. But from time to time Jane would become involved with men—an FBI agent, a fellow cop and then Colonel Jones. By all indications, Detective Rizzoli was madly in love with her best friend. Her life at a glance didn't reflect that. However, right now she was far more bothered by how this loss possibly hurt the doctor than the former fiancé.

"Would you have raised the child together?" he made a safe assumption.

Her mind recalled sitting with Maura when she asked for her help raising the baby. She had never been so happy as in that moment; despite the fact that she was doing something she never did, she was asking for Maura's help.

Her sadness increased visibly on her face as she thought of how happy they had both been in that moment. Unfortunately, her mind then went to the moment she woke in the hospital to Maura telling her she had lost the baby.

"Have you been gentle with yourself in your recovery? How have you spent your time?" he subtly avoided looking her over to discover any remaining marks or bruises from the altercation.

"I've stayed with Maura," Jane would have otherwise been embarrassed to say this, but not to this man with whom she had said more about what she wanted with her friend than any other person. "She insisted on it. Lots of lounging around, magazines, Red Sox games, that sort of thing."

"How has Dr. Isles handled the loss?" he asked because he knew her answer would also reflect how she was truly handling the loss.

 _Jane retreated into a memory._

" _I want you near me," Maura wasn't asking._

" _I may not sleep well," Jane didn't want to join the doctor in her bed if she might affect her quality of sleep. One of them had to work the next day._

" _I don't mind."_

 _They were standing in the upstairs hallway, ready to part to separate bathrooms to prepare for separate beds._

 _Maura entered the guest bathroom, retrieved Jane's toothbrush and took the detective's hand to lead her into the bedroom. She then began her nightly routine._

 _When they settled face-to-face in bed, Jane couldn't help but glance down at every curve, swell and peak of free breasts that were barely covered by a thin satin nightgown. Her eyes rose and found Maura's brimming with tears._

" _I'm so sorry, Maura," she tilted her head to meet the doctor's. "I'm sorry."_

 _Jane didn't have to say what she was sorry for. They both knew that she could not forgive herself for entering a dangerous situation without any concern for the life developing inside her. She had wanted this, really wanted it, but not for any of the reasons she would have expected mere months ago._

" _I know, I know."_

 _Soft hands held Jane's face. They both allowed their tears to fall._

" _Maur—"_

" _You don't have to apologize any more. Not to me…never to me," she began pressing kisses to Jane's cheeks, forehead, chin and eventually lips._

 _When their lips met, Jane's hands seized the doctor's satin-covered hips, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened, as did the emotional connection between the two women._

 _As Jane slipped the nightgown over Maura's head, she accepted that this was right, needed and the forgiveness she owed herself. Her own clothes were slowly removed. Bare flesh pressed together, mouths found a rhythm and hips began the slow dance toward something more._

"Maura is strong, stronger than me. She has been my rock. I don't know what I would have done without her through this."

For the first time, Jane felt comfortable talking openly about her relationship with Maura and its importance in her life. She seemed at ease. That easy way in which she spoke of her best friend represented progression for the detective. Seeing a shrink so infrequently could not be the reason for such progress.

Jane Rizzoli had changed.

 _To be continued…_


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's Note: I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. To be completely honest, I hadn't quite planned where this story would go either with their relationship or the plot. So this chapter was a bit harder to write. There are scenes included (with dialogue) from the episode that inspired this entire story, "Murderjuana" (06x14). This chapter will be a bit backwards—the flashback will be to the session rather than flashbacks to scenes with Maura while sitting in sessions. Thank you all for your continued reviews and encouragement. –dkc_

 **Twelve Times – Chapter 12**

She lied to Maura about having to interview a witness. She skipped lunch with the M.E. so she could meet him.

She had never lied to Maura about him before.

" _We've got to stop meeting like this," he said._

" _Dr. Kaplan, you say the sweetest things," Jane had arrived with both sarcasm and two cups of coffee._

" _No really, someday we have to meet in my office. People do it all the time. They call, they make an appointment."_

" _I like this spot," they laughed._

 _They continued talking, Jane guarding her feelings and refusing to think of this as a session. She was there on her own accord. This wasn't an appointment required by BPD. This wasn't in response to a trauma that had happened to her. What it was, she wasn't sure, but she hated to think of this as ongoing therapy with a psychiatrist. Therapy made her feel weak._

" _12 meetings in 5 years is enough to constitute a professional relationship," he spoke the words as if he knew exactly her aversion to therapy._

 _Jane didn't like the sound of it._

" _I read about Dr. Isles' abduction," she nodded, clenching her teeth. "I'm guessing that's why you're here. You find it difficult to see someone you care about in danger?"_

" _Well, yeah. It's hard to see a strong woman like Maura, you know, just crippled by fear and anxiety. She's starting to lose her confidence; she's second-guessing herself."_

 _Jane was emotional. Her love of Maura evident in every bit of concern she expressed._

" _Dr. Isles is not my client, you are. I'm asking about you."_

 _Jane seemed genuinely surprised by this._

" _No, I'm fine. I…I'm fine." She tried to convince him as much as herself._

" _Then why'd you want to see me?" he asked._

 _She was quiet, looking away. What was the actual answer? Why were they here? Why had she asked him to meet her in the park?_

" _You know, I remember when you first called me to come meet you here," he pointed to where she was rubbing her hands. "Those scars were very new."_

 _It was the first time she had seen him outside the office. Every time she saw him outside of his office she did so because she was asking for his help on her own. She wasn't required to be there._

" _Yeah, it was right after I caught Hoyt," she continued with her hands._

" _Some wounds heal with stitches and a Band-Aid, others require more time. All of them require a helping hand," he spoke with both the kindness she had come to expect of him and the certainty._

" _I'm not wounded."_

 _She got up and walked away in frustration._

She couldn't quite accept whatever it was that had made her lie to her friend and lover.

Maura had played amateur psychiatrist and Jane hadn't appreciated it. Part of it was because she wasn't open to seeing someone regularly, especially with what was going on in her life. The other part, though, was that she didn't want to appear weak to her best friend.

So she lied.

…

The sound woke Jane suddenly. Even coming out of a deep sleep she knew what the floorboard nearest the back door sounded like.

Shooting off the couch and reaching for her holster, Jane panicked briefly when she remembered that she had locked her gun up for the night as a compromise with her paranoia. She moved stealthily around the couch, crouching down as she made her way toward the door.

Sculpture in hand, having grabbed it from the console table, she stood upright as the light turned on.

"Fuck!" she was shocked and relieved when she saw that it was Maura.

Shocked in her own right, Maura's brow furrowed and she seemed geared up to rip Jane's head off when she burst out laughing. It was then that the overprotective detective realized her friend was hammered.

"This is not funny," Jane pointed out.

The doctor was now doubled over, fits of laughter causing her to lose her breath.

"Actually..." she tried deep breaths. "It is..." a hiccup escaped. "Quite funny."

Increasingly irritated with Maura, Jane turned her back to her and went toward the sink where she filled a large glass of water. She then reached in the cupboard, getting out two pills, before leaving both on the edge of the countertop and nodding toward them.

"I thought you were an intruder," Jane sighed.

"You do realize this is my house, right?" Maura's smile was radiant, albeit inebriated.

"Of course I do," she snapped.

"I just wanted to be sure since you insist on sneaking in to sleep on the couch every night as if it's entirely your own."

Rolling her eyes, Jane was defensive.

"Sneaking! You're the one sneaking. I thought you were in bed. I didn't get here until midnight. Your car is here. Where the hell have you been?"

Taking a drink of the water, swallowing the pills she would be grateful for come morning, Maura sat down at her kitchen counter and deliberately avoided eye contact. She may have been drunk, but that didn't prevent her from being ashamed.

"I wanted a few drinks. I thought it safer to not drive myself. Not that it's any of your business."

That last bit had been Maura's own form of defensiveness and it hit its mark. Jane was stung.

"Maura, you were abducted, for Christ's sake! Going out on your own is dangerous. At least you could have let me drive you," she admonished the woman before her.

"I'm a grown woman, Jane."

Steely hazel eyes were breaking the stubborn detective into pieces. What was happening? Why was Maura behaving like this?

"Fine, don't care about your safety, but you can't stop me from caring about it," Jane turned her back at the sink, she got her own drink and was taking her time sipping it to avoid having to look at Maura.

"I'm not the one in danger. It's you this psychopath is after. Remember? It's you that needs to worry about safety! It's you that needs protecting!" tears threatened Maura's eyesight and ability to control her emotions.

"Don't you think I know that they're after me?" she was clearly argumentative and angry. "But you're wrong, I don't need protecting."

"How can you say that?!" Maura was all but yelling.

"Because they can't do anything to me now. They can't possibly do anything that will hurt anywhere as much as what they've already done," Jane was fuming, her nostrils flaring and her hand movements exaggerated. "Don't you get that? They took you, Maur! They took you and that's the worst possible thing they could have done to me."

The weight of the detective's words broke through the haze created by all the alcohol Maura had consumed.

"Is that why you insist on sneaking in to sleep on my couch? Is this penance? You don't owe me anything, Jane. They aren't going to come after me again," she tried to remain focused and not slur her words.

"If I had been there..." Jane sighed.

"You know how irrational that sounds, right?" the alcohol had erased Maura's ability to self-censor. "It was designed to get me alone. There was no way for you to know."

"I wish I'd been there," Jane was tired, tired of the threat on her life and tired of feeling as if she owed everyone she couldn't keep safe an apology.

The detective leaned back against the sink; her posture slumped, signaling defeat.

"Did you know that dehydration is the main reason people experience hangovers?" Maura had changed the subject, but Jane wasn't opposed.

"Do you need more water" Jane attempted to follow her friend's train of thought.

"Perhaps I should have another glass."

Nodding and taking the glass, Jane refilled it.

"Did you have a lot to drink?" she asked.

"Far more than I should have alone and on a work night," she responded honestly.

When the glass exchanged hands, Maura's fingers brushed Jane's and for a moment she considered telling the cop everything she was feeling that she couldn't understand and attributed to her abduction.

"Are you going to be okay?" Jane felt a loss when Maura's hand broke away.

"I am," she smiled.

…

They had retired to Maura's bedroom, Jane having been convinced that there was no point in sleeping on the couch.

Jane sat staring at the wall, unable to prepare for bed and no longer aware of the goings and comings of the doctor as she passed from her closet to the en suite to prepare for bed.

She knew what it felt like. Perhaps that's why it was eating Jane up. She knew what Maura was going through and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.

That feeling she knew so well, that terror of being jarred from a deep sleep where demons chased her and tormented her, leaving her afraid of the dark. She knew that feeling of never wanting to sleep again for fear of what might come to her as she fell into what should be a relaxing, restorative state.

She knew that there was nothing those around her could do. What had to be done was within her. Of course, she had a little help from pharmaceuticals, a prescription she had refused numerous times only to eventually accept it in defeat and desperation.

"Have you ever considered going back to Medicins sans Frontiers?" Jane asked a question she didn't know the answer to and was terrified of a certain answer to.

"What?" Maura peaked around the doorjamb of the bathroom, toothbrush in hand.

"You know, in Africa or wherever."

"MSF is currently doing their most important work in Syria as that civil war rages on," the doctor's answer was impersonal.

"That doesn't answer my question," Jane's stubbornness could be heard in her tone.

"No, I haven't," Maura spoke firmly. "Not since Ian."

Jane didn't need an explanation. She knew how crushed her friend had been when the once love of her life had left Boston and left Maura behind.

"Would you consider doing it again?" she continued on this path.

"No," she spoke without hesitation.

"Would you want to be closer to your parents?" she changed tactics.

"Jane," Maura sighed, she finally knew why the detective was asking.

Maura spit toothpaste into the sink, returning her toothbrush to the holder. She slowly shut off the bathroom light and walked over to the bed as she collected her thoughts.

"I'm not going anywhere, " she sat down next to Jane, taking her hand.

"But it might be safer," Jane's voice was fighting off strangling emotions.

"What more could happen? Wouldn't you think that if they wanted me dead they wouldn't have wasted their time after the abduction itself?" she was able to speak of death casually.

A tear escaped Jane's eye and she quickly wiped it away. The very thought broke Jane.

"I don't want anything else to happen to you," her voice cracked.

Placing a hand beneath Jane's chin, she turned the detective's face to her own, their eyes meeting.

"I think we should talk about getting you protection again. At least until we can catch this guy," Maura gave a gentle squeeze to Jane's hand. "I want you to stay here. Forget the townhouse. You should have just stayed here after the fire. As much as you loved living with Frankie."

Jane rolled her eyes.

"I'm serious," Maura's thumb was now rubbing the cop's jaw.

"I didn't want to get in your way. And I didn't want you to grow tired of me," Jane shrugged.

"I could never grow tired of Jane Rizzoli," Maura smiled.

"I know I'm difficult. Stubborn as hell and easily irritated are not the traits of a good house guest," Jane watched Maura's thumb tracing the raised scar on her hand.

"First of all, you are not a houseguest. You are my friend, my best friend even, and I may find you difficult at times, but it's short lived. You are who you are, Jane," she pressed a kiss to Jane's chin, dark eyes closing briefly. "Stop sleeping on my couch."

The subtle raise of a dark eyebrow prompted an explanation.

"I want you in my bed," she pressed a kiss to Jane's lips.

Jane smiled into the kiss.

"How can I argue with that?"

 _To be continued…_


	13. Epilogue

Author's Note: Here it is, the long awaited epilogue for this piece. Your reviews have, as always, been a great motivation to keep going. I'm glad you all have liked this piece. The epilogue picks up sometime after "Shadow of Doubt" (07x05). I'm really starting to get sad about the end of this series. I can't imagine the series ending will end my writing about it. Ideas pop into my head all the time. I suppose I'll have to move on to new 'ships. Any pairings I should be paying attention to? -dkc

 **12 Times - Epilogue**

They were sitting on a bench in the park on a Saturday morning. It was a beautiful, sunny Boston day. They had opted for coffee and croissants over going for a run. It might not be necessary, but Jane was doing everything she could to remind Maura to take it easy. Her head injury was still a matter of great concern.

"Jane..." Maura whined.

The stubborn cop had stood from the bench to walk their paper coffee cups to the nearest trash can. She refused to let Maura do it, much to the doctor's frustration.

"I'm perfectly capable," she said firmly when Jane returned to the bench.

"I know you are, but you've just had brain surgery. It wouldn't hurt to take it easy."

"It wasn't brain surgery, Jane," she rolled her eyes.

"Did they touch your brain? It doesn't matter if they removed part of your skull or used a probe. That counts as brain surgery. Doesn't take a genius, Maur."

"It's rather sweet when you are protective of me," she smiled.

Jane placed her arm over the back of the bench. She loved this woman and couldn't believe it had taken her so long to see it for what it was.

"Did you have a good evening with Hope? You didn't mention it when I got home last night," the way Jane referred to home was casual despite the fact she was speaking of Maura's house and she had crawled into bed with the doctor not long after her arrival.

"I did," the smile on the M.E.'s face was genuine. "We discussed the opportunities that might be available to me if I were ever to commit my time to the clinic. Either in the capacity of a volunteer or otherwise."

"I'm proud of you," she smiled. Her arm had been across the back of the bench and was now wrapped around Maura's shoulders. She gave a gentle squeeze.

"I haven't committed yet."

"That's not why I'm proud of you, Maur," Jane was gazing at the woman with affection.

Their eyes flirted silently.

"Detective?" the familiar voice caught Jane's immediate attention, pulling her from the conversation she and Maura's eyes were having.

"Dr. Kaplan," Jane was surprised.

"Enjoying this beautiful morning?" he was walking a small French bulldog.

"We are," she smiled at the pronoun. "Have you met Dr. Maura Isles?"

"Please, Maura," Maura stood and shook the psychiatrist's hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

Ever the professional, Dr. Kaplan didn't let on that he had heard about Dr. Isles. Yet he may have known Jane was falling for the doctor before either of them did.

Sitting back down next to Jane, Maura was quite happy to meet the doctor whom she had heard so much about.

"She's adorable," Jane reached for the dog, scratching her ears.

"Thank you. We ought to finish our walk," he said, looking down at the dog. "She needs her exercise."

"It was nice to meet you," Maura said.

"Have a good morning, ladies," he nodded and walked away.

Jane looked at Maura with a slightly raised eyebrow and curiosity.

"He seems nice," she said.

"Nice?" Jane smirked. "What does that mean?"

"Nice. Nothing more."

Jane took Maura's hand, entwining their fingers. It may have been the first time Jane hadn't fidgeted or looked around to see if anyone was watching their interaction.

"He is, I guess. I've never talked to another shrink," looking down at their hands, she shrugged. In some ways she was ashamed that she had been seeing him, yet she also knew how important seeing him had been to the progress she'd made in her personal life.

"There's nothing wrong with seeing him," Maura read her mind and body language.

"It's not something I ever would have done had—" she wouldn't speak the words that still felt as if they gave Charles Hoyt power over her life.

"I know," Maura wanted badly to kiss Jane to reassure her. However, they weren't quite to the place where they would kiss in public. They were holding hands. Baby steps. "It has been good for you, Jane. I'm sure it's hard to see that, but I see it. I see you."

Jane smiled, leaning forward to touch her forehead to Maura's.

"It's mostly you, you know?" Jane's voice was barely above a whisper.

They were oblivious to the world around them.

"Whatever role I've had, you don't give yourself enough credit, Jane."

Tilting her head to kiss Maura's cheek, the cop tilted her chin up to speak against her ear.

"What do you say we head home?" she said suggestively.

Nothing more needed to be said.

- _Finis_ -


End file.
